Lissa, in only the shirt from her male clothing, sat at the small table in the warm room, poring over the letters she’d taken from Leighhall.
He sat up, the covers falling to his waist. “Do you not wish to give your new husband a kiss? I promise you can kiss me wherever you wish.”
She shook her head and didn’t look at him.
Not necessarily insulted but definitely deflated, he threw the covers off and strode naked to see what had her so engrossed. Standing next to her, he could see she had organized the letters into piles on the small table. “What have you discovered?”
She rolled her lips in, holding a letter in her hand as if deciding where it should go. Finally, she set it on her lap, released her lips, and looked up at him. “I think the regent wants to poison the king.”
“What?” The accusation was regicide and beyond comprehension.
She pointed to one pile. “These are all questions being asked about when and what the king eats and who is with him.” She moved her hand to another pile. “These ask about different poisons and how long they take to kill someone.” She moved her hand again. “These are letters requesting the names of people who have the skills to enter buildings without detection, andthese here are promising gratitude in the forms of weapons and favors.”
His stomach felt as if it were filled with lead shot. Hoping she didn’t understand the connection between the correspondence, since it was only one-sided, letters received by Leighhall, he pointed to the letter in her lap. “What is that one?”
She held it up for him to take without looking.
Dread filled him as he read a complete plan to poison the king with the help of an agent that Leighhall would hire on behalf of the regent. Not only was his wife in danger, but so was he, and possibly anyone they knew. Leighhall undoubtedly knew they had these letters and would stop at nothing to get them back.
The king!
Never mind their own danger, when was the poison to be fed to the king? This was far more serious than even Anthony had suspected. He’d unknowingly dragged Lissa into a plot against the king’s life. “We must leave at once.”
“I know.” She sounded disappointed, and her shoulders slumped forward as she methodically began to gather the piles of letters together.
Despite the need to hurry, he knelt beside her and laid his hand on her arm. “Tell me what is wrong.”
She cocked her head, and her gaze softened. “I had hoped, just for a day, that we could live as a simple couple enjoying each other and celebrating our marriage.” Her gaze drifted. “But I think safety, security, and happiness is not my fate.”
His heart rebelled at such ideas. With his hand, he gently coaxed her to look at him. “I do not agree with you on your fate. I promise you.” He held his hand up as she opened her mouth to no doubt caution him against promising. “I promise you that when all is resolved, we shall return to this very inn and spend a day or two alone as simple folk.”
Her attempt at a smile was sad at best and scratched at his heart. “I would enjoy that.” She held his gaze for a long moment before returning her attention to the table and slipping her arm from beneath his hand.
He was quite sure she didn’t believe he could keep that promise, but he would. Rising, he walked to the washstand, rearranging his plans based on the new information.
He dressed in silence, the weight of their circumstances and that of the country filling his head. He had no doubt Lissa pondered the situation as well, and he could only wonder about what her thoughts were. He hoped none of them included fleeing back to France.
When they gathered their few belongings, they left the room and exited the inn. To any passersby, they appeared to be two brothers, and in no time, they were headed out of the village, at which point he urged his mount into a gallop.
After a while, he eased up on the pace, not wanting to harm the horses, though in his mind, he had already arrived at his father’s estate and was organizing what he would say.
Lissa rode beside him, watching the edges of the road as she usually did, always alert to danger.
He counted himself fortunate yet again that he had made her his wife. No other woman had her talents or uniqueness. He would never force her to change. “We should be there in another hour. Do you need to rest?”
She shook her head. “You never told me about your estate. Is it very large?”
Of course, she would expect them to go home. “Bellamore will have to wait. We go to Narborough Park, my father’s estate.”
She pulled up on the reins so fast that he was a full length ahead before he realized she’d stopped. Turning his horse around, he frowned at her. “What is it?”
“I can’t meet your parents.”
Befuddled, he brought his mount forward so they faced each other. “Of course you can. You’re my wife.”
She cocked her head, looking at him as if he should be in Bedlam. “Do I look like a baroness?” She gestured to her trousers.
“No. But won’t that be the fun of it?”
